Chapter 3
WOODY
Finally, I get a chance to share my thoughts. I am the asshole I say I am, okay? Right, now where were we?
I took Sable down to the basement of the building, the one place on the face of the planet that should be safer than anywhere else. I say 'should be,' because Forrest's penthouse should also have been safe. Yeah, we all saw how that turned out.
I carefully locked the door behind us and stalked over to grab a gun off the shelf.
"That's a gun," Sable said cheerfully.
I rolled my eyes at her. "No shit, Sherlock. Thanks for the clarification. I thought it was a potato peeler."
She cocked her head at me. She was too fucking cute to be in my presence.
I hated myself for pulling a knife on her the night we met.
Hated the fear in her eyes, even while she was smart-talking me back.
I could have killed her. Where would we be then?
Possibly in graves side by side, since Forrest would have torn my head off if I followed through.
"Could you aim with enough precision to peel a potato with it?" She was taunting me. The woman was always doing that. Trying to annoy the shit out of me and keep me on my toes.
If I was Superman, which I'm fucking not, Sable Kohl would be my kryptonite. The fact she was dressed in a green sweater right now only served to back up that assumption. The color looked good on her. It complimented her dark hair and pretty eyes.
What can I say? I liked her in green. And yeah, out of it too.
"Of course I could," I said. "But we're not here to appreciate my accuracy. We're here to show you how to use this thing so you don't shoot yourself in the face. See this part?" I pointed at the barrel. "Always keep this end away from yourself or anyone you don't want to kill."
She snorted. "I already knew that part."
"Then you're doing better than most people," I said.
I handed her the gun. "You know where your finger goes."
She wrapped it around the trigger, holding the gun like someone who'd never fired one before. That tentative way, like it might somehow go off without her pulling the trigger. Or maybe she'd put just enough pressure on it to shoot, as if it had a hair trigger.
"Don't treat it like it's going to blow up in your face," I told her. "It's not a cock."
She laughed. "You do have a sense of humor."
"Of course I do," I said. "I hang out with Forrest and Leif, don't I? A guy has to, or he'd end up stabbing them in the neck."
Before she could say something, because I knew she was about to, I added, "Yes, I know, they have to have a sense of humor to hang around with me, too. I never said I was a walk in the park."
"Are you always so hard on yourself?" she asked, turning so the barrel of the gun was pointed right at my chest.
I raised a hand and pushed it away, toward the wall. "Don't point that thing at me. Yes, I am. Don't feel sorry for me, I'm fine. Now here, that's the safety. It's on right now, sorry, you couldn't have shot me. But if you flick that, it'll be off and you could do some damage."
"Is that an offer?" she asked, laughing.
"You're not using me for target practice," I told her.
"I'll take you to the range later. It's a good idea to get some actual practice.
" Shame we couldn't take a few potshots at people that deserved it, but there were still laws against that.
Probably a good thing, if I'm honest. People would take pot shots at me.
"Is it loaded?" she asked.
"Good question," I said.
Did she need to learn how to handle a loaded gun? Her waving one around would scare the shit out of most people. Nothing much was scarier than someone who was armed but didn't know how to use the weapon properly. Accidents happened.
I spent the next few minutes showing her how to load and unload the gun. Got her to do it a couple of times herself. She'd manage in a pinch. With any luck, it wouldn't come to that.
"Why was Forrest so certain we were safe after those guys blew the door in last night?" she asked. "They could have been an advance party or something. However that works." She shrugged her slim shoulders.
I took the gun from her fingers, made sure the safety was on before placing it back on the shelf.
"Because he didn't only call for a clean-up crew. He called for a security detail around the building."
Forrest wasn't perfect, but he wasn't taking any chances with her safety, or that of the rest of us. Mostly her, though. Priorities.
"Security detail," she echoed. "Won't that look suspicious?"
"Nah." I leaned against the wall and crossed my ankles.
"Forrest gets all sorts of death threats.
It comes with the territory of being a judge.
This isn't the first time, or the last, he's had to call people in.
Knowing him, he'll keep them around for a while.
If anyone comes after us, they'll have to go through them first."
I made it sound like it was no big deal, but it was, including the 'usual death threats.' He was trying to do his job. As far as I knew, he did it well. Of course, people always took exception to things like that, because generally speaking, people suck.
"That would explain why some of the clothes I ordered looked like they'd been pulled out of bags and moved around. I thought the store packed them a little rough." She wrinkled her nose.
"No, they would have been checking them for explosives," I said, scratching the back of my neck. "I'm guessing they didn't find any."
She blinked at me slowly a couple of times. "Someone could have put explosives in my underwear order?"
I stepped over to her and placed my hands on her shoulders. "They could have. That's what security is there for, to make sure it didn't get to us. To you or me." I threw in a smirk.
"Or Leif or Forrest," she said, daring me to contradict her.
"Yeah, if they get blown up, we'll go too," I said, fighting back an actual grin. "I refuse to go down with them."
"You're so sentimental," she teased.
I placed a finger over her lips. "Don't tell anyone. It's easier if they all think I'm an asshole. People tend to keep their distance then."
I glanced away so I didn't see sympathy in her eyes. I hated that expression more than I hated, well, hate. I didn't want people feeling bad for me. I could do that fine for myself. Wallowing was one of my superpowers. How else was I supposed to maintain my grumpy asshole persona?
"I don't think you're as big a prick as you let on," she said.
"No," I agreed. "I'm a bigger prick, with a bigger prick." I slid my hips back and forth a couple of times, thrusting out my groin.
"Haha, I think you're secretly a…" She lowered her voice to a whisper. "Nice guy. You like to pretend you're not."
"I am absolutely one hundred percent not a nice guy," I said. "Leif is a nice guy, who likes to make shoes out of people's skin. Forrest is a nice guy, who likes to kill people when he can't throw them in jail. Me, I'm not a nice guy. My only redeeming quality is that I'm good with my hands."
"You are good with your hands," she said.
Thank fuck she agreed with that.
"I tell you what, let's make a deal." She tipped her head to the slide and looked up at me. "You teach me how to use these weapons, and I'll help you to uncover the inner nice guy you won't admit exists."
"I'll have better luck teaching you than you will uncovering something that isn't there," I said. She shouldn't waste her time on me. We should concentrate on keeping her safe.
I stalked over to a set of drawers on the other side of the room, opened one, and pulled out a tie.
I didn't know how long it had been here for; it looked like something out of the 1970s.
Given the way fashion came back around, it was probably only a couple of years old.
Either way, it looked cheap and uncomfortable.
"If I was going to use this," I wound the ends around my hands, "I'd hook this around someone's neck and pull." I mimed doing that. "That's only going to work if you sneak up behind someone."
I stepped around behind her and looped the tie around her neck. I pulled the ends together, applying a small amount of pressure to her throat, holding her there like that.
All the blood in my body went straight to my cock, making me harder than steel in a heartbeat or two.
She stood perfectly still, her eyes wide. "Have I mentioned recently you shouldn't choke me unless you mean it?"
"Princess, I always mean it," I said, my voice low. Reluctantly, I unwound the tie and stepped back. "Now you try." I handed it to her.
She tried to copy my actions, winding the polyester around her hands. It took her a couple of tries before she had it nice and tight.
"Practice that," I told her. "You can't take that long out there in the real world."
"Shouldn't you be busy doing something?" she asked. "I see a coffee machine over there. Why don't you make us some?" She jerked her head toward it.
I nodded, playing along. Whistling like an idiot, I walked over and started the machine, keeping half an ear out for her footsteps behind me.
I was expecting her, but the air went out of my lungs when she looped the tie around my neck and drew it tighter. I turned and grabbed her wrists, holding her so she couldn't step away.
"This is why you don't try this on someone bigger than you," I said. "Only take on someone close up if they aren't going to overpower you easily."
Her tongue slid over her lips. Were they always that red? She was so fucking gorgeous, I thought my eyes must be deceiving me. How could anyone this beautiful, this sweet, give a shit about me? I didn't know, but for some reason she did.
"What do you recommend for someone bigger than me?" she asked.
"If you have nothing else, this is worth a try," I said, shrugging against the discomfort of the fabric on my skin. "Before it gets to this, though, you should try to run."
She nodded. "That sounds like good advice."
She opened her mouth to add something, but we both jumped at the sound of pounding at the door.